Page 25 of Executives' Omega
The car slowed, and I realized we were approaching the airport.
Another squeeze. “Can you look at me?”
I met his gaze, forcing myself to maintain eye contact.
“Good,” he said after several seconds. “Be strong, just like you are right now. I might have to get angry again, sometimes that’s just how alphas communicate with each other. But it’s not about you. Ok?”
“Yeah…”
“Chin up,” he repeated as the driver stopped at the drop-off. “You’re the person I want with me today. I have confidence in you.”
How were those words able to both make my heart sing and terrify me at the same time?
“Ok,” I murmured.
Chapter 6
~June~
It had been almost three weeks since the whirlwind trip to Chicago, yet Zane’s words played on repeat in my head like a broken record.
“...if there are problems, the people in charge take responsibility… I have confidence in you…”
I paced back and forth, wearing down a strip of carpet, turning to go the other direction each time the words restarted. One arm crossed my chest, hand holding the opposite elbow, while I held my free hand to my mouth, fingers curled and the back of my thumbnail resting on my lips.
Guilt curled through me. I was a screw-up; always had been. Just because I had some good days, didn’t mean that I wasn’t going to fuck up massively at one point—and that shouldn’t be on the guys.
I didn’t want them to take accountability for my faults. They’d all been so kind and understanding, but they also had to know that I was a walking liability.
Zane’s confidence was misplaced, no matter how earnest his declaration had been. One good meeting, a few decent months… they didn’t mean that it wasn’t a matter of time.
The door opened, and there was a sigh before the settling of plastic bags on the floor.
“Go see Owen,” Alicia said softly, forcing me to stop walking as she wrapped her arms around me. “You know he’ll be able to help.”
“He’s working tonight,” I mumbled.
She sighed, pulled me over to the couch, and forced me to sit. Then she sat next to me and leaned her shoulder against mine. “Talk to me about it?”
I was silent for several minutes before the words tumbled out in the tiniest whisper, “I don’t want to go.”
“Hmm?”
I took a deep breath, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes at how true the words were. “I don’t want to go,” I repeated, only a tiny bit louder.
“Go where?”
I sniffled. “Work.”
“You don’t want to go to work?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No. I-I don’t want to leave work. I don’t want to quit. But I have to.”
“Why do you have to quit?”
“Because I’ll fuck something up.”
She let out a long breath. “Is this still about Chicago?”
